


The Beautiful Man

by Urdnot Wrecks (touchstone2015)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Aging, M/M, Post-Canon, Ten years post-ME3, mShenko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3592518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchstone2015/pseuds/Urdnot%20Wrecks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the years go by, you have lost most of what you had or were.</p>
<p>But one thing remains unchanged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beautiful Man

It's afternoon.  
You've been napping in your chair.  
There are many days nowadays when you do nothing but sleep.  
Or you're awake, but not really aware of what's going on.  
But today must be a good day.

Beyond your room, there's a balcony with a sublime view over a wide bay.  
The window is open a little, and a gentle breeze blows into the room.  
The sun on the water sparkles like the beautiful man's eyes.

You look around.  
You don't leave the room much nowadays.  
There are pictures.  
There's a photograph obviously taken towards the end of a raucous party.  
You're sitting on a sofa in front, with the beautiful man next to you.  
Around and behind you, there are rows of folk of all races.  
There's a man at the back who looks like a wall of muscle, saluting.

There's another photograph of just you and the beautiful man.  
Both of you in battle gear, bone tired, bruised, arms around each other's shoulders, facing the camera.  
And both of you are smiling.  
What was that occasion?

And another of you and the beautiful man in dress uniforms, at a ceremony.  
He's standing in front, with some dignitaries; perhaps he's receiving an award?  
You're sitting in a row nearby, watching him; and your gaze is full of love and pride.

A photograph of the two of you on a sunny beach, barefoot in white shirts.  
An enormous carnival of folk behind you.  
Face to face, holding hands, tears in your eyes, identical rings on your fingers.  
Your hair is close-cropped as always; the beautiful man's black hair is long enough to be falling into his eyes.

* * *

A long while ago there was a meeting.  
This was when you were starting to fade.  
A turian went with you and the beautiful man.  
You met an Australian woman.  
She was shapely and dark-haired; she and the turian seemed familiar in some way.  
You remember some of what was said at the meeting, as though it were a recording.  
But you can't work out what it means these days.

The woman spoke in a forceful and detached way.  
"The Lazarus project only focused on the short term.  
If the Reapers won, there was no long term.  
If there was a choice between performance and longevity, we chose performance.  
And after all, Shepard was dead; any extra time was better than none at all."

* * *

The people who help you feed you, wash you and put you to bed.  
The bed is comfortable, but it seems large.  
What's the time?  
It's not too late, because you can still see the summer light breaking through the curtains.

The beautiful man appears and climbs into bed with you.  
So that is why the bed is large.  
He must do this does every night.  
You feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

The beautiful man turns to look at you.  
He smiles sadly, and gently kisses your face.  
Again and again.

And suddenly, you are aware of a word.  
You hardly try to speak these days, because it's so difficult.  
And often when you do speak, folk seem not to understand what you're saying.

But the word is still there.  
You're not quite sure what the word means, but you realise it relates to the beautiful man.  
It's a short word.  
If you concentrate really hard, and make an effort, you can say it.  
You swallow to clear your throat.  
You focus.

"Kai".

The beautiful man pulls away, just for a second.  
But then his smile breaks out joyfully, even as his eyes are bright with tears.  
His voice is husky and soft as he tenderly strokes your face.  
"Shepard," he says.  
"My Shepard."  
You realise that you've heard these words before, and that they are good words.

Then the beautiful man puts his arms around you and holds you close.  
As you fall asleep, you listen to him breathe.  


And it seems as though you and the beautiful man have always been together.

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at fan fic, and my first try with ao3; please be gentle with me!
> 
> I didn't write this to be downbeat; although Shepard is a shell of what he was, he's forgotten all the war and all its suffering, violence and misery. All that is left is Kaidan. But this is of course the best part.
> 
> After writing this, I realised that this could quite easily by a fShenko story (just a few references to clothing need changing).


End file.
